


My Love Letters To You

by Mrgoodbar



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Heaven, I'm Sorry, Implied Character with Terminal Illness, Just super sad, Letters, Love, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, POV First Person, POV Third Person, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Sad, Steve is dead, really really sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-09 22:20:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11114064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrgoodbar/pseuds/Mrgoodbar
Summary: It’s hard to lose someone you love. It’s even harder when you know it’s going to happen eventually…





	My Love Letters To You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SWeetasSuga](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SWeetasSuga/gifts).



> Hi, Readers!! 
> 
> **This fic is for my friend and favorite reader, SWeetasSuga, who's as sweet as her username would imply! She's so nice and has an adorable dog who she named Bucky!!**
> 
> **Warnings: It's implied that Steve had cancer before he died. It's never said, but it's implied. Also, this fic is just really sad in general. (I personally think this is my saddest fic yet.)**
> 
> Hope you enjoy, :)

It’s hard to lose someone you love. It’s even harder when you know it’s going to happen eventually…

 

* * *

 

_May Tenth_

Bucky woke up to silence. His breathing was so loud in the room. Silence filled the room and it wasn't right.

Moving from the small couch in their room, he sat up. His body was stiff, he stretched, yawned and-

It was quiet.

It was so quiet that the silence was deafening.

Why was it so _quiet_?

Bucky stopped breathing momentarily.

_Silence._

Where was _his_ breathing?

_Steve-_

And his heart stopped.

The room was silent and the only person breathing in the room was Bucky.

* * *

 

_May Seventeenth_

 

The funeral was held exactly one week later on May seventeenth.

 

The day was unusually warm, bright, and Bucky hated it. Why was the sun out? Why were birds singing? Why was it so warm? Why were there so many butterflies?

 

Today was not a good day. It was a terrible day and everyone, every _thing_ should be sad and upset. The day shouldn’t be warm. It should be cold. The sun should be hidden behind clouds. Birds should stop their signing.

 

Why was the day so bright when all the good in the world was just buried six feet under?

\---

 

Sitting in his car, Bucky watched all the guests leave one by one. When he was the last one there, he slammed his hand down on the steering wheel and let the tears free.

 

It took almost two hours to calm down enough to see clearly without tears in his vision.

 

Bucky sat for another moment, just looking at Steve’s tree. Then, he got an idea.

 

He pulled an envelope from the glove box and began to write.

* * *

 

 

> _May Seventeenth_
> 
> Steve,
> 
> Tell me what to do. I need you here. I need you right now. I’m so lost, I can’t see anything. I feel like my heart is being ripped from my chest, and if you were to read this, you’d call me a drama queen but that’s the closest description I can think of.
> 
> It hurts. So bad.
> 
> You aren’t here to help. You’re not here and I’m so scared.
> 
> I can’t tell anyone. I have to hide. I hate it.
> 
> They all got over you so quickly. I can’t. I’m stuck and you need to come back.
> 
> I don’t know what to do without you.
> 
> Please, Steve, come back to me.
> 
> Please.

* * *

 

_Last July_

It was a Sunday, a nice cozy, lazy Sunday. They were snuggling, their coziest, softest blanket wrapped around them, listening to the others breathing and being content just with the other's presence.

Everything had been normal, fine, wonderful, even. Steve’s artwork had finally been accepted by a gallery and his exhibit was opening that Friday.

Bucky was offered a job as Stark Industries new Chief Engineer.

Life was good. Until it wasn’t.

\---

_Last November_

The headaches were becoming regular occurrences; happened almost every day for Steve. Bucky begged and pleaded Steve to go to the doctor. Months went by and Steve remained firm on his idea that he didn’t need any doctors. Or that was until finally fatigued by Bucky’s pleads, he relented.

They left for the doctor that night.

\---

The ride home was speechless, stagnant, a cloud of disbelief so thick, one could easily cut it with a knife.

* * *

 

 

> _June_
> 
> My love,
> 
> No one knows how much I cried that night… Except you, Stevie.
> 
> It still astounds me that you didn’t shed a single tear… Nothing…
> 
> You face remained emotionless.
> 
> How? How’d you do it?
> 
> I never once saw you cry, or even get a little teary.
> 
> You remained passive until the end.
> 
> I tried. I tried so hard to stay strong for you. I couldn’t.
> 
> I just couldn’t.
> 
> Every night when I was sure not even a bomb going off would wake you up, I’d let everything loose. I’d curl towards you and I’d stay silent, but a vicious storm was going on in my head. It was relentless and it was terrifying.
> 
> I was terrified. And truthfully, I still am.

* * *

 

 

> _June_
> 
> I’m so mad at you, Steve.
> 
> Why wouldn’t you open up to me?
> 
> I knew you were scared, I knew it.
> 
> You never told me.
> 
> You locked your emotions up. You just. Wouldn’t. Let. Me. In.
> 
> Were you sparring me? Were you sparring yourself?
> 
> Why Steve?

* * *

 

 

> _July_
> 
> My love,
> 
> It’s almost the fourth, Stevie. You would have been twenty-seven. You’ve only been gone a few months, but it feels like years since I’ve seen your brilliant open-mouth smile.
> 
> Sometimes I wonder what it’d be like if I could see you… see your ghost. You’d look like you did before… I just know it.
> 
> I wish that you’d haunt me, Stevie. I just want to actually know you’re there. I want to see you again.
> 
> I haven't told anyone this, but…
> 
> Every time I’m forced to go out, I swear I see you in the crowds, watching me with that cute smile firmly placed on your lips.
> 
> I have to restrain myself not to run to go, hug you, kiss you…
> 
> I know you’re not there…
> 
> I want to have a burial. I know it’s not what you wanted. No burial, but I can still want, right?

* * *

 

 

> _July Fourth_
> 
> Stevie,
> 
> It’s your birthday today. I haven't seen you in what feels like a lifetime. I wish you were here so I could celebrate it with you.
> 
> I want your hugs. I miss how you'd hug me and the top of your head would only reach to my chin and I could always fit my chin over your head. I want your kisses. I miss how passionate you'd kiss me.
> 
> I miss your body and how small you were. God, you'd hate me if I were to say that to you. But I loved your body. So much. You were so small and I could lift you up so easily.
> 
> I want to run home and see you sitting in your studio fully absorbed by whatever piece you’re working on. I want you to jump a little when you finally notice me.
> 
> I want your “Welcome Home” kisses.
> 
> I want to tell you about my day. I want to hear about yours.
> 
> I miss your voice.
> 
> I want to tell you “I love you,” and I want to hear you say “I love you, more.”
> 
> Just one more time. Even if it’s for a second. It’d be the best second of my life.
> 
> I want to sing happy birthday to you. I want you to flush your tomato red blush.
> 
> I want you back.
> 
> I miss you so much. So much.

* * *

 

 

> _October_
> 
> It’s so hard to move on, Steve. You gave me so much not to forget.
> 
> How do I move on when what feels like the entire world is encouraging me to forget about you?
> 
> I didn’t say goodbye to you, I’m sorry.
> 
> I was scared.
> 
> I held onto this childish dream, this childish hope that you’d get better and I wouldn’t have to say goodbye. I thought that you’d be strong enough and you’d fight until you beat it. But you fought until there was no fight left…
> 
> I never actually said goodbye, the actual words. But, I love you can mean goodbye. It’s not painful then. It wasn’t painful then. It’s only painful when you realize you can’t tell them one last time in person.
> 
> I Love You.
> 
> I never really realized how many things people say every day that reminds me of you until you were gone.
> 
> I act brave, Stevie, and I am brave about a lot of things… not you, though.
> 
> You managed to make a hole in my hard exterior and only you fit through it.

* * *

 

 

> _October_
> 
> Do you remember how we met?
> 
> I was so angry, or well at least as angry as a seven-year-old could be.
> 
> You were so sweet; you were like the sun and I was a dark rain cloud.
> 
> My life was a hurricane and then you came and I finally found the eye of the storm. You were the sun’s rays piercing through the monstrous storm and I could finally see.
> 
> You refused to let my bad mood get in the way. You forced yourself into my life.
> 
> Do you remember?
> 
> We were in second grade and I was sitting alone on the playground and you saw me. You came over to me and sat down and just stayed silent for the rest of recess.
> 
> I was so confused.
> 
> Then, the teacher called us in. I stood up and you followed closely behind.
> 
> We were about almost to the door when I found you at my elbow and you said, “Can we be best friends?”
> 
> And me, being the little shit I was, rudely refused.
> 
> But you asked again the next day.
> 
> And the next.
> 
> And the next.
> 
> It eventually became a daily thing. I’d wait until recess, you’d sit with me, recess would end, you’d ask to be my friend, and I would refuse. Repeat.
> 
> I remember I gave up one day when I had a headache and you offered to walk to the nurse with me.
> 
> And you asked again.
> 
> I was so agitated.
> 
> “If I say yes, will you stop asking?” I snapped.
> 
> “Yup,” you smiled cheekily as you looked up at me.
> 
> You were so little, Stevie. So small. That never really changed… did it?
> 
> You didn't grow. You just grew smaller, right?

* * *

 

 

> _March_
> 
> I want it so bad, Stevie. I want to come to you. I want to be with you again, but I know you’d hate me if I did it.
> 
> I know you want me to live a long life… But I don’t know If I have the kind of strength you had Stevie. It’s so hard to wake up. It’s so hard to fall asleep.
> 
> I can’t sleep, really. When I do, it’s always after I’ve exhausted myself and cried myself to sleep.
> 
> It’s been almost a year, Steve, and I’m not sure I have much more life left in me.
> 
> I’m slowly giving up…
> 
> I tried it one day, I did. I can’t lie to you.
> 
> The razor was new, straight from the package. I know it’d get the job done.
> 
> I tried to do it… I couldn’t. All I could see was your gorgeous face in the mirror behind me and you were so disappointed with me.
> 
> I’ll try, Stevie. I’ll try.
> 
> Only for you, though.

* * *

 

_May 10_

It’s been a year. Bucky refused to do anything today. He didn’t have enough drive. He didn’t have enough Want.

It was probably around seven, and Bucky had laid in bed sobbing all day when Natasha barged into their- his- home.

“Come on Bucky. You’ve had all day to mope. It’s time to do something.”

“No, Natasha. I won’t do anything. I can’t do anything. I just want him back-” his voice cracked at the end of the sentence.

“Bucky,” Natasha’s voice was so soft and Bucky had never heard he be so gentle. “Come with me. You’ll like it.”

Natasha dragged Bucky from the bed and upstairs to the attack.

All of Steve’s special belongings stayed in Bucky’s room, but things like clothing, books, and photos, except for a few, were shoved into the attack.

“Come on, Bucky.”

She leads him over to the tote that held all of the pictures that Bucky didn’t want around. She popped the lid off and dumped all the pictures on the ground.

“Let’s take a look?” She asked.

Sighing, Bucky dropped to the floor. He picked a photo at random and almost burst into tears at the photo he picked.

It was the photo they took at Coney Island. They were stuck on the top of Demon’s Wonder Wheel, the Ferris wheel on Coney, and they were kissing passionately.

It was taken a few weeks before the doctors visit.  

He picked up another.

In this picture, they were ten. It was Bucky’s birthday party and they sat shoulder to shoulder, or more like shoulder to head, smiling widely at the camera.

That was a good birthday. Steve had wanted to make the party more fun and right after the candles were blown out, he grabbed a handful of cake and shoved it onto Bucky’s face.

He grabbed the next one.

This picture was the picture they took right after they both realized they liked each other more than friends.

A small smile was on Steve’s lips and Bucky looked at Steve like he had hung the moon.

Bucky didn’t realize until he saw a tear fall onto the picture, but tears were streaming down his face.

A sob broke from his throat.

“I miss him so much, Natasha,” he sobbed.

“I know. I miss him too.”

* * *

 

_And I am feeling so small..._

_It was over my head; I know nothing at all._

 

_I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you..._

_Anywhere, I would've followed you._

 

_And I will swallow my pride._

_You're the one that I love, And I'm saying goodbye…_

* * *

 

_June First_

It was just after the two-year mark when something in Bucky snapped.

He had been at Steve’s grave, or well, tree. Because Steve didn’t want a grave- No, he was buried in a tree grave which made it so his body would grow into a tree…

That punk…

But, something snapped that day. Well, he wouldn’t call it snapped but something clicked inside his head.

He needed to move on. He couldn’t live like this. He’d run himself into an early grave and Steve would be mad at him for the rest of eternity.

He didn’t want that.

It was a normal Tuesday when Bucky burned all the letters he wrote and buried the ashes at Steve’s tree.

* * *

 

_May_

Bucky died in his sleep of natural causes at age of seventy-three after a long and healthy life.

He never got married or had any serious relationship after Steve. It was four years after Steve’s death that Bucky adopted a son named Steven Grant and a daughter named Sarah, both of whom he spoiled rotten and loved beyond imagine. They made Bucky happy but the hole in his heart never went away.

He’d tell them stories about their Papa:

He was brave. He was strong. He was sweet and caring and the love of his life.

He was the sunshine on a dark day.

The doctors say he didn’t feel anything, it was quick and peaceful.

Steven and Sarah weren’t sad; it wasn’t his end. They knew that their Dad was finally reunited with their Papa. They were happy about that.

They’d miss him but they’d tell their kids about their dad and he wouldn’t be forgotten.

* * *

 

Bucky opened his eyes and found piercing blue orbs looking directly into his.

“You’re stupid, ya know,” was all Bucky heard before Steve’s open hand slammed against his cheek.

Steve just slapped him, hard.

“That’s for thinkin’ about killin’ yourself, Idiot. I can’t even believe you.”

Despite the sting in his cheek, Bucky smiled.

“I know. I just missed your ugly mug, ya punk.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone was confused on the dates, this is the timeline:  
> ~July- Life is good scene  
> ~November- Steve is diagnosed  
> May 10th- Steve dies  
> May 17th- Steve's Funeral and First Letter  
> ~June- Second Letter and Thrid Letter  
> ~July- Fourth Letter  
> July 4th- Fifth Letter  
> ~October- Sixth Letter and Seventh Letter  
> ~March- Eighth Letter  
> May 10th- One year after Steve's death and scene where Natasha Visits and they look through photos  
> June 1st- Two years after Steve's Death  
> ~May- 46 years after Steve's death, Bucky dies and wake up in heaven.
> 
> The lyrics are from [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-2U0Ivkn2Ds>this%20song</a>.%20%0A%0AAlso,%20the%20whole%20). 
> 
> Also, the whole "Steve being turned into a tree" is a real thing. They have these burial pods that your body is put into after you die and it grows into a tree. You can check it out [here](http://www.cnn.com/2017/05/03/world/eco-solutions-capsula-mundi/index.html). 
> 
> **Edit: July 21, 2017. After just re-reading this fic, I found a flaw which I have fixed. At the beginning, Steve has his funeral. I thought in my head (but didn't write it,) but Steve is not buried. I thought him cremated and the funeral was just the get-together. Bucky later mentions that he wishes he could bury Steve. That's why.**
> 
> Thank you for reading!! Come say hi- [My Tumblr](https://mrgoodbar11213.tumblr.com).


End file.
